For Rome
by Etsuki-chan
Summary: The Seal Prince is not satisfied, and Esca is forced to punish Marcus. M/M, Slash, Yaoi


**Title: For Rome**

**Author: Etsuki-chan**

**Summary: Esca is forced to punish Marcus**

**Warnings: Heavy m/m, yaoi, slash, gay stuff lol...very mature. Language.**

**A/N: Written for a prompt on LJ. Hope someone enjoys it :)**

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Marcus would never know what it took for Esca to watch him suffer. He wouldn't know what it felt like to see his former master on his knees, moments away from death, with nothing but honor to call his own.

But as he knelt in the mud, eyes turned towards the sky, throat exposed to the blood-thirsty prince, he knew what it was to feel the humiliation of being one's dog. Finally, he could understand the depth to which Esca had been dragged. But whatever Marcus had done, he had never treated one as he was being treated now. And he would not let Esca forget that.

"Would you kill him?" Esca's voice was flat and emotionless. His grip upon Marcus' hair tightened, forcing his chin higher.

"No. He is your's. If you trust him, that is all that matters."

Marcus did not feel relieved when the painful grasp upon his scalp loosened and disappeared. If anything he felt further shamed. Was this how it would always be? His life held at the whim of his former, treacherous slave?

"However," the Prince paused, his eyes going narrow, his smile wide. "You would punish him, would you not? For dishonoring my sister?"

Esca paused, his heart suddenly hammering in his chest. His muscles tightened involuntary, struggling to keep his temper in check, and every fiber of his being ached to pounce. His face, however, remained impassive.

"If you would ask it."

"I would," the prince grinned, a terrible, brutal smile. "It is the very least of what he deserves."

"How would you see it done?" Esca did not look to Marcus, could not bare to see his confused, dark eyes.

"Bring us a whip," the Prince called over his shoulder, "so that Esca might remind his dog of his place."

Marcus sensed the change in his companion, the subtle shift of his demeanor. Against his better judgment, he forced himself to speak.

"Esca," he whispered. "Esca. What is happening?"

Esca turned abruptly and slapped Marcus across the face. In his own tongue he demanded silence, but to Marcus he replied in secret.

"Stay strong. For Rome. For Rome."

The whip was brought and with it Marcus' mounting horror. For the space of mere seconds he could not bring himself to believe what was happening. But then he looked into Esca's shrouded, cold eyes and he knew. He had lost his friend forever.

"I will kill you." He did not shout, for he knew it would make little difference. Instead he looked his former slave straight in the eyes as he was stripped and his hands tied. "I will kill you for this. For Rome."

Esca made no reply, but instead turned his gaze back upon the Prince.

"How many will please you?"

The man considered for a moment before replying.

"I would see blood," he said at last, a cruel sneer creeping across his pale face.

"Very well."

Esca made no move at first to accept the offered whip. Instead he turned and allowed himself one moment to appraise Marcus' smooth, flawless back. His tan skin, shining in the sun, his proud shoulders held stiff and tight, the line of rippling muscle that clenched in the humiliating pose.

Finally he took the whip in hand and approached.

"Do not clench your teeth," he advised. "They might break."

"Get on with it," Marcus hissed in reply. "_Master_."

The tail of the whip sailed through the air with a crack and landed upon the previously unmarred flesh. Marcus tensed, and a quick sharp blast of air slipped through his lips. Otherwise he did not make a sound.

Again, a crack spilt the air, and again Marcus tensed. But this time there was no gasp. He would not, he decided, give Esca the pleasure of hearing his pain. He would survive this. For Rome.

Esca's grip was slippery on the handle of the whip, his fingers tight and trembling. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand before continuing. Inwardly he flinched at the raw, red lines began to appear, but he fought to keep his composure.

Over and over again the whip landed. Over and over again Marcus tensed. But he did not make a sound, not when the tenth lash appeared, not for the fifteenth. Not when finally, mercifully, one of the lines split open and began to trickle down his back.

Esca looked to the Prince, his mind numb, his heart cracking. But the Prince simply shook his head. Not enough blood.

So Esca continued the beating, his heart pounding in his ears. And for a moment that would haunt him until the end of his days, he allowed his anger to increase the strength of his lashes. If only to hurry along the process, and allow enough of Marcus' sweet blood to be drawn to the cruel Prince's eyes.

Marcus could barely hold himself up. Everything hurt, his back, his cramping leg, his head. He wanted to curl up on the ground and sob, beg them to leave him alone. But he was a Roman soldier; he would not dishonor himself further. So he clung to his last few tendrils of strength and prayed it would be over soon.

Esca was losing control of himself. He wished, for one frightening moment, that he could trade places with his former master. So he would no longer be forced to watch the man with which he had hunted, traveled, and slept be tortured by his very hand.

"Esca," Marcus whispered as the blows continued to rain down upon his tattered back. "Esca, _please_. How much more?"

The words were spoken so low that no one else could hear. But the broken tone was enough to still Esca's hand and again have him raise his eyes to the Prince's hungry gaze.

"I would hear him cry," the Prince explained, a frown adorning his face.

Esca forced himself not to sneer.

"He has learned it does him no good," Esca explained. "He rarely cries out. I have taught him not to."

"I see," the Prince looked mildly disappointed. "Well. It will have to do then. If you are pleased?"

"I am," Esca returned the whip and watched as they cut free the bloodied form of his friend. "I must insist he is cleaned though. I will not have him taking ill."

The Prince nodded and gave the order.

"Come," he grinned. "Let us dine."

Esca swallowed the bile that rose in the back of his throat as he watched Marcus being half-dragged, half-carried away.

"Very well."

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With the fall of darkness Esca was freed from the presence of those he most detested. They draped themselves upon the ground in a deep, drunken sleep, and he, with an empty and nauseas stomach, slipped out into the cover of night.

It had been some days since the lashing, and in that time he had seen very little of Marcus. When he did, it was often to the tune of whispered threats, and penetrating glares. The Roman walked slowly, his back bent, and his lips pressed in a tight, white line, and with every step Esca's heart tore open in his chest.

He could not form a coherent thought, only that he could no longer call himself a just man. That he had willingly, and with every intention of inflicting pain, beaten another man until he could barely stand. And to make matters worse it was not just any man. It was Marcus. His Marcus.

He hadn't had a choice in the matter, if Marcus wanted his blasted Eagle so badly, there had been no other alternative. But that thought alone was not enough to shake the image of the Roman's bloody back, his strained, pleading voice as he called out to him in anguish. _Esca. Esca, please. How much more?_

How dearly he wished to escape! To crawl into his hut and sleep away that day's appalling events, and pretend none of it had ever happened. Pretend he had not by his own hand broken and humiliated another man, and pretend that that man had definitely not been Marcus.

But he could not. If ever he wished to regain his honor, he must and with every fiber of his being commit himself to his Roman Master's cause. Swallowing against the knot in his throat he slipped through the night and approached the fallen soldier.

Hesitating only a moment, he whispered into the shadows.

"Marcus? Marcus, wake up."

"I cannot imagine what would bring you here at such a time..._Master_."

Esca's spine stiffened. The dim slits of moonlight illuminated Marcus' dark, accusing eyes as he lay on his stomach in the dirt.

"Now is the time," Esca ignored his poisonous words. "Quickly, before they awaken."

Marcus seemed to freeze at that, his lips parting in surprise, and his eyes widening to a near comical size. He stared up into Esca's face with something very much like relief radiating from his gaze.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered, struggling to rise.

Esca's throat tightened.

"Come," he replied, slipping a hand beneath the man's shoulder. "We must hurry."

For some time they did not speak of what had passed. Not in the river when they fought for every breath in their body. Not after they had defeated the Seal people and sent their dear friend's body up in flames. Not even the days after when they rapidly approached the wall. They did not speak of it...until Marcus began having nightmares.

It was weak at first, nothing more than dark shapes wielding a long, thin whip. Not enough for Marcus to cry out, or for Esca to notice something was amiss. But as the nights passed and they drew nearer to their destination, the shapes began to solidify and take form.

In his head the images were becoming clear. Esca. With laughing eyes, and a cruel, taunting smile. Himself lying upon the ground, weak, helpless, hurt, and betrayed. The crack of the whip, the searing pain. The lashes appearing not on his back, but upon his heart, tearing it to shreds, leaving him a bloody, sobbing mess.

It was upon this time that Marcus began to grow bitter. Now that the danger had passed, now that they were safe and the Seal Prince was dead, he was forced to remember. Remember the pain and humiliation, the cruelty by which Esca had attacked him. Remember his promise, to kill Esca. For himself. For Rome.

"Maybe you should stay. Maybe it would be better if you were not to return with me," Marcus spoke suddenly into the quiet morning.

Esca seemed taken aback, his eyes expressive and hurt. He seemed at a loss, grappling for something to say, his hands lying limp against his legs.

"If that is what you wish," he paused. "You, of course, do not wish to share the glory with a slave."

Marcus scowled deeply, his eyes turning sharp and fierce.

"You know that is not how it is between us!"

"And how is it then?" Esca demanded, his face flaming bright red in anger.

"It is this," Marcus approached the smaller man and jerked him to his feet. "That I would not have you with me if is not where you wish to be."

Esca's scowl deepened and his eyes narrowed.

"What tells you I do not wish it?"

Marcus began to feel his anger ebbing, to be left with a deep uneasiness, a great vulnerability with which he had never before been familiar.

"You took pleasure in it," he said finally, turning away. "I could sense it in the fury of your lashes."

Esca felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. All the air left his lungs, and for one brief, horrifying moment, he thought he might choke to death on nothing. Finally his lungs burst to life, and his voice along side them.

"This is what you think?" He shouted, pressing himself forward and into the Roman's view. "You think I enjoyed your beating?"

"I do," Marcus said through clenched teeth. "I do."

Esca's eyes gleamed and he fought to control his raging temper.

"You are a fool then, if that is what you believe," his voice was soft, but the anger had not faded from his tone. "I beat you soundly so that you might bleed faster. It was your blood the Prince wished for."

Marcus was silent for a moment. Finally a long, shuddering sigh was torn from his lips sounding as though it had come from deep within his soul.

"You did not come to me after," he sunk to the ground, leaning against a tree and peering up into the sky. "You did not care to see how I was fairing."

Now it was Esca's turn to fall silent. The only sounds that passed between the two were the steady deep breaths exchanged as they pondered where to go from there. Finally, Esca moved forward and crouched in front of his former Maser.

"I did not come," he admitted, not meeting the Roman's gaze. "Because I was ashamed. I had not only allowed harm to befall you, but I, by my own hand, had brought it down upon you. How could I face you after what I had done? I thought you would not wish to see me. I thought it would be easier if I stayed away."

Marcus searched his gaze looking for the smallest hint of deceit. Finding none, he sighed and slumped forward, resting his forehead upon Esca's shoulder.

"I truly thought you hated me," he said. "I thought you did not care."

Esca's arms ached to hold him, his fingers clenched and shook but otherwise he did not move.

"Marcus," he said in a low, beseeching voice. "Would you show me? Your back? Would you allow me to see what I have done to you?"

Marcus pulled away, his eyes guarded. "I do not think it would be of any good."

"It would," Esca insisted. "Please. Let me see."

Marcus gazed at him for a long moment before sighing and nodding his head. Carefully he began to disrobe, mindful on his still tender back. When at last he was bare from the waste up, he turned onto his stomach and allowed Esca to view his handwork.

The once smooth, flawless flesh was now covered in deep red lines, many of which were scabbed over and leaking, with purple and blue discolorations along the most vicious looking wounds. Esca's throat once again clogged with bile but he forced himself to remain in control.

"Marcus," he whispered. "You should kill me. For doing this to you."

"Never," Marcus replied instantly, shaking his head at the ground. "I am not worth your death."

"You are!" Esca hissed, pressing his palms lightly against the hot, bruised skin. "Look what I have done to you! You should take your vengeance, at least. If not for yourself, then for Rome. Do it for Rome."

"No," Marcus again protested, this time with something like a smile curving along his mouth. "I would have you live."

"To what purpose?" Esca asked, tracing lights, soothing circles along his friend's damaged back.

"I cannot be sure," he answered honestly. "But I want you with me always."

They fell into a warm, soft silence, with Esca's fingers still lightly stroking, easing the tension that had built over the last few days.

Seemingly hypnotized by the soft touches, Marcus left himself relax, even going as far as to lean into the hands, appreciating the comforting gesture.

Esca, his eyes fixed on the maze of lines and bruises, found himself mesmerized. What strength it must have taken to bare himself through such a beating! What spirit Marcus held inside himself, that could allow him to suffer so without making a sound. The very thought of it made him shutter slightly, and wish desperately with his very soul that he might sooth his friend's tattered spirit. With little thought beyond that, Esca leaned forward and replaced his hands with his lips, gently caressing the lines of color with warm, open-mouthed kisses.

Marcus' eyes flew open at the feel of Esca's mouth on his hot skin. His shoulders stiffened automatically and he fought to find his voice.

"Esca," he breathed the name like a prayer. "What are you..." he broke off with a moan as the smaller man's tongue found a particularly sore cut.

"Shh," Esca soothed, moving to press his cheek against the man's shoulder. "Let me do this for you...let me take care of you."

Marcus felt a whimper rise in the back of his throat but he held onto it with all of his might. Esca's lips had begun to move again, running against the back of his neck, breathing hot, steady breath along his collar bone.

Marcus felt the slide of a hand around his chest, stroking his abdomen, and easing along his hips and pelvis. His hands clenched into fists against the ground, but he did not move away. Instead, he slowly began to relax, melting into a puddle of moans and sighs against his friend's gentle ministrations.

Esca mouth curved into a smile as he felt Marcus begin to let go, giving himself over to pleasure. Gently, teasingly, he ran his fingertips along the slightly protruding hip bones, dipping long enough to brush just inside the line of his pants, before curving upwards to splay along his chest.

"Esca..." Marcus moaned, turning his head to the side in a sort of fevered abandon. "Please..."

"What do you need, Centurion?" Esca implored, running his lips along one of the jagged red lines.

"Touch me," Marcus whispered, his body shaking.

"I already am," Esca laughed softly, slipping his arms around to nestle against the man's fluttering stomach.

"Lower," Marcus beseeched, turning carefully in Esca's embrace. "And I would...I would touch you. If you will have me."

Esca's smile faded, and his heart cramped painfully in his chest. For a moment he was afraid he might shame himself by bursting into tears, but with a great effort he managed to remain composed.

"It has always been in my heart to have you," Esca replied, peering into the Roman's face. "But...can you ever forgive me for what I have done? You will carry these scars until your dying day."

Marcus' eyes softened suddenly, their usual veil falling away to leave expressive orbs gazing into Esca's soul.

"You have marked me in many ways, my friend," Marcus pulled the man close until their foreheads rested against each other. "You have damaged my pride by making me kneel before you."

Esca flinched but listened as Marcus continued.

"You have broken my honor by hearing me plead," Marcus ran a hand down Esca's arm, to capture his fingers in the stronger grasp. "You have tainted my Roman outlook by showing me a Brigante's way of life."

Esca's eyes dropped to the ground, but Marcus cupped his chin in the cradle of his hand, forcing their eyes to meet.

"But more than anything, you have found and captured my heart," he smiled. "Nothing else matters. Not the scars on my back, nor the ways upon which they came to exist. I am no longer my own man, but one who is no longer in control of his desires. I leave that duty to you."

Esca's eyes had widened, and a small thrill shot through his veins. He leaned forward as the other fell silent and pressed their lips together. Marcus was ready for this and parted his lips almost instantly, intent upon claiming the man for his own.

Esca keened low in his throat, pressing closer as he felt himself begin to harden. Marcus felt a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, but he was far too busy to give it much thought. He trailed his lips down the younger man's throat, sucking and biting against the pale flesh. His hands sought the strings of Esca's trousers, just as Esca's reached for his.

They shared a low, hungry laugh, before continuing on, pulling each other from the constrictive fabrics.

"Marcus," Esca breathed, stretching himself out to lie on his side. "Come here."

Marcus did not need to be asked twice. Sliding upon the ground, he pressed the lengths of their bodies together, moaning at the feel of Esca's cock along his own. Their mouths met again, desperate for each other, fighting in a battle for control, teeth clashing, tongues tangling, lips bruised and sore.

Esca's hand found its way down the center their chests and took the length of Marcus in his fist. The gasp that was torn from the soldier's mouth was like a satisfying spark to Esca's cock, and he thrust his hips forward seeking some form of contact. Marcus took the hint and ran his hand down a smooth, pale thigh, before wrapping his fingers around the already leaking member.

"Esca," he whimpered as the two began to thrust together, rubbing their hands along the other's cock, and seeking their lips to suck and to bite as the pleasure rose.

"Marcus," Esca warned, his head rolling back with his eyes closed. "I'm going to..."

"I know," Marcus groaned, increasingly the speed of his strokes. "Me too."

And together they came, shooting their essence into the other's grip, the silence of the surrounding forest split by the force of their cries.

Marcus collapsed onto Esca's chest, sweat was running like tiny rivers of fire down his back, but he didn't care. He buried his nose along the curve of his lover's throat, inhaling deeply to take in the salty, sweet aroma that was his Esca.

"We should see to your back," Esca whispered, but made no move to rise. "It must pain you."

"Mmm," Marcus shrugged, and turned his head to lay a kiss upon the other's man's brow. "Go to sleep. We'll deal with it after we reach the wall."

"I take it I am coming with you then?" Esca grinned, amusement playing about his voice.

Marcus snorted and rolled his eyes.

"So long as you are willing, I will always have you with me," he spoke the words softly, as though afraid of the response.

Esca smiled and pulled the Roman's head towards his own for a long, penetrating kiss.

"That is well," he grinned. "For I will always be willing. Provided you agree to fuck me properly when we are both able."

Marcus laughed, a rich, deep sound that was filled with happiness and the promise of a bright and loving future.

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